[So that's it. They did it, and now it's over. Cole takes Petre standing as a sign that he should himself, and he's still shaky, but he manages to dress - ugh. With come on his stomach. He'll have to shower too. Here's hoping Pell hasn't showed up to stay, he'll have some 'splaining to do about the state of his face and - well, the come on his stomach. Not possessive explaining, but this was a weird kind of encounter and one he'd rather not spell out in detail.]
Yeah. [He's got to admit that. He feels like he'll climb into bed and sleep like he used to at Project Splinter, like an absolute rock after years just dozing with an ear always open for trouble.
When Petre grabs his bag, he glances at it curiously. A bit warily. He picks up his jacket and phone which were sitting beside it, then finally asks.]
[Cole has Seen Some Shit, let's be clear about that. He's watched so many people die horrifically, and then killed so many, that there's not much that can faze him. The Kalavirus wasn't pretty at all, nor was life as a scav.
But when he sees that fake human flesh, still so plainly meant to be flesh, and he puts everything together, his gorge rises and he has to drop the bag and turn away. Nothing comes out, he doesn't even retch, but it's a very close thing. He's pale and shaky when he turns back.]
[Is he really supposed to be comforted that they're fake here? He still eats people. Cole came from the land of intense starvation and even the West VII never considered going that far.]
[The impact of that shows all over his face, his posture, everything. There's no argument he can make. Even if it was all (all? really?) survival, Petre's clearly in the same situation if the city is giving him something so grotesque. He needs human flesh like Cole needed the shelter and clothing and food he killed for.
His lips twitch and contort, eyes blinking heavily, somewhere between disgust (at himself) and fury (at Petre for hitting the nail so much on the head. Then he just shrugs on his jacket, pockets his phone, and starts to walk away.]
[That's fine. It says a lot about Petre that he does press into it, that he still doesn't laugh at Cole and instead lets him go, finishing his cigarette on his lonesome. With his bag.]
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Yeah. [He's got to admit that. He feels like he'll climb into bed and sleep like he used to at Project Splinter, like an absolute rock after years just dozing with an ear always open for trouble.
When Petre grabs his bag, he glances at it curiously. A bit warily. He picks up his jacket and phone which were sitting beside it, then finally asks.]
What was the bag all about?
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he's lighting one up and taking a first drag before smirking at Cole, eyelids relaxed.]
You sure you're ready to know that, Cole?
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What's in the bag.
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A life for a life. That's why I keep coming back. That's why I'm alive at all.
[a beat.]
If you'd killed me, this is the one thing that would've stopped me from killing you.
[He lifts the bag, hands it over in case Cole really wants to see.]
It doesn't look human. It's not even real. Synthesized. But it does the job.
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But when he sees that fake human flesh, still so plainly meant to be flesh, and he puts everything together, his gorge rises and he has to drop the bag and turn away. Nothing comes out, he doesn't even retch, but it's a very close thing. He's pale and shaky when he turns back.]
Jesus fucking Christ.
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You're going to throw up on me now?
[Really, Cole? But at least Petre's disbelief beats just laughing in his face.]
It came out of a lab. No babies were harmed. Relax.
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[Is he really supposed to be comforted that they're fake here? He still eats people. Cole came from the land of intense starvation and even the West VII never considered going that far.]
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[Where's the moral high ground here.]
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His lips twitch and contort, eyes blinking heavily, somewhere between disgust (at himself) and fury (at Petre for hitting the nail so much on the head. Then he just shrugs on his jacket, pockets his phone, and starts to walk away.]
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